


The Lies of Family

by WillOfKnight5413



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Out of Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-10-16 09:59:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17547536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillOfKnight5413/pseuds/WillOfKnight5413
Summary: AU. The war is over in France, but the men that returned will always remain somewhat broken. With the Peaky Blinders coming to Alfie to make a deal, he gets more than he bargained for with Thomas Shelby in his life. With family secrets haunting Tommy and the shared grief of surviving the war, Alfie discovers lies he could never have dreamt of, and must find a way to untangle Tommy from their grasp.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an Alternate Universe, with quite a bit OOC for many of the characters.

In the Beginning.

That's how that Good Book starts out, innit? In the Beginning. With nothing before those words, and a bloody mess of tangled letters after 'em. A clean entrance, dirtied by the vile, the rotten, the clever. And those people who supposedly frolic within the light of those words are rewarded eternally. Spared. 

Although, words mean nothing to those who cannot hear them; cannot see them. And their misuse among liars can hide even the darkest of secrets in their shadows. In Alfie's own opinion, his experiences had enlightened him enough to understand there are no true Beginnings, and that one must never be susceptible to the deceptive nature of words. 

***

In this business, first impressions of men can either make or break a deal. Alfie's first impression of Mr. Thomas Shelby is that he is an idiot. Or desperate. Or a psychopath. Quite possibly all three. The slender man that sat before him in his bakery's office talked with a confidence not normally found in someone that looked as beaten as he. Face bruised and cut, body held tight to keep from causing any sharp pains, and still dressed as professional as he could afford. Whatever beating he had recently taken, his ability to ignore it was amusing. 

His offers were appealing though, even twisting the conversation to make it seem like Alfie was the one truly in need of this agreement. As if Shelby didn't just limp his way along the dirtied streets of London to find this Bakery. His amusement could only last so long though, with Alfie not being a patient man, and with decisions still needing to be made. 

Alfie could actually admit that he had heard of the Peaky Blinders, the small time gang of misfits up in Birmingham, and knew of their dealings with Billy Kimber. Kimber was a spineless twat, the kind of man that deserved more than just a bullet through the skull. Regardless, the brutish protection that could be offered by the Blinders during this war on London with the Italians could be useful in gaining back the control Alfie sought. The question he needed to answer, and the decision this Jew needed to make, was if this man in front of him was going to be able to provide his end of the bargain. 

Leveling his gun at Shelby's head gained him a reaction he didn't expect, and quite surprised Alfie. A sane man would have flinched back, a crazed man would have smiled with relief, but this Gypsy did neither. As the two men stared each other down, Alfie's large dark eyes looming over the other man's detached blues, there was nothing but a slight trickle of blood from a nose bleed. Alfie put the gun away, Shelby wiped his face, and they shook hands.

***

It was a matter of weeks after their first meeting in Camden Town that Alfie received a telegram inviting him to Birmingham for their next business meeting. While he detested the idea of having to make the cold drive up, then breathe in air that undoubtedly smelled of the foulest shit the earth could offer, it made sense to see his new business partner's establishments. At that point in time, the arrangement of security from the Blinders was working quite well in his dealings, and they themselves could not complain of their profits. He had Ollie send word back his acceptance of Shelby's invitation, and began to make his arrangements for the trip. 

Unlike the recklessness of Thomas Shelby who showed up to Alfie's bakery alone, Alfie was not as stupid to trust so easily. Once the day came to set off, Alfie made sure that everything at home and the brewery were taken care of, then left with Ishmael along for the ride and Ollie behind the wheel.

Hours later brought them to the congested streets of Birmingham, already filled with laborers getting off duty and walking home to clean the filth of coal and sweat from their skins. Children were running back and forth between the cars and horses to make it home in time for supper. To the right of him, Alfie could see a woman shooing away drunkards from her doorstep, but was unable to see if she succeeded as the car carried on. 

Ishmael accompanied Alfie to the address for the Shelby Offices, while Ollie carried on to find them some rooms for the night. The row houses were awfully dreary, Alfie noticed, as he craned his neck around to take a look at it all. His cane banged against the wooden door to announce his arrival to those within, and waited only moments. The door swung open roughly, revealing a dark interior and a stiff red faced man standing in the door's place.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man spit out, glaring.

“Who the fuck am I?” Alfie stepped up into the man's space and spit the question at him nose to nose. “This here's Alfie Fuckin' Solomons my friend, the wandering Fuckin' Jew, and I was invited. The real question Mate, is what are you gonna do with that bit of information?” 

Before the man could produce an answer to Alfie's disappointment, a voice cut out from further behind them.

“Arthur. Let him in.” 

Ah, Arthur Shelby Jr., the eldest Shelby brother. Alfie had heard of him before, a bit of a follower who couldn't handle his liquor or run the family business if the rumors were true. Apparently France had done a number on his head, and he passed the baton down the line to a more capable candidate. Where as Thomas appeared as glacial stone, with his cold gaze calculating everyone in the room, his older brother Arthur was known for his bar fights and emotional outbursts. In the first thirty seconds of meeting him, Alfie was willing to admit the rumors were accurate.

Stepping aside from the door way, Arthur waved his hand impatiently for the two Jews to enter, then swiftly slammed the door shut after Alfie took his time striding in. Ishmael remained silent behind his boss, face set in a glare as his eyes adjusted to the dark interior. Alfie could trust him to react quickly if the need arose.

The entry way of the office was dimly lit, with the smell of tobacco and whiskey wafting through the small space. A set of double doors directly to their left were ajar, and they could see a small group of individuals waiting inside. Arthur pushed past them and made himself comfortable on a lounge seat beside another young man, taking a drink from the lad's hands and receiving a punch to the arm in return. Two upholstered chairs sat in front of a wide oak desk, with one empty, and another taken by a woman slightly older than Alfie himself. Thomas Shelby sat behind the desk, cold eyes immediately trained on the visitors entering. 

The family resemblance between them all was remarkable. Fuckin' Gypsies. 

“Lovely establishment you have here Shelby, but I've got to inform you, you're wasting precious income on that doorman of yours. Seems rather daft at his job.” Alfie seated himself without invitation in the opposite chair of the woman, eyeing Arthur in amusement before resting back and removing his hat. Ishmael remained standing by the door, at the ready if needed. 

Before Arthur could choke out an angry retort, Thomas beat him to a reply.

“Yes, you've had the pleasure of meeting Arthur. This here's also our younger brother John, and this is our aunt, Polly Gray.” Thomas gestured to the other members in the room as he rolled a fresh cigarette on his bottom lip, his pale hands reaching up to light it. 

Alfie turned his gaze to the other occupants and chuckled softly, “Well now, a family of Peaky Blinders! Who would have thought that some razor blades could bring a family together.”

“Something like that Mr. Solomons.” Polly stated, her chin held high. “What about yourself, any family?”

“No, I'm not as blessed, Miss Gray. I've held a firm belief to never mix family and business with the underworld of London.” 

“Speaking of business,” Thomas interrupted, eyes drifting from Alfie to Polly, then back, “The first few shipments have gone through with no ill effects, am I correct?”

“So far so good, Shelby. Your boys are in fact just as much a menace to society as you believe. They seem to be rather effective at making those around them take a few steps back.”

As the conversation droned on, Alfie forced himself to remain interested as the tactics the men used were explained by John, and the numbers were reinforced by Polly. This was definitely a family business, with each of them covering a section that kept the infrastructure upright. All the while Thomas sat sturdy in his office chair, leaned back slightly and concentrated on the reporting of his kin. 

Polly primarily controlled the conversation, her stern eyes focused on Alfie's reactions to whatever she was droning on about. If his memory served correct, this was by far one of the most unusual business meetings he had attended. The Shelby's had the right amount of success with their brutality, and with the risks they were willing to take on they might actually be crazy enough to conquer their aspirations. But Alfie had been submerged in the underworld of London streets for long enough to know that he needed to pay more attention to their actions, and less on what they had to say. 

All throughout her lecture, Alfie allowed himself to glance around the room, eyes darting from her attention to the brothers seated on the couch. They were entirely focused on their Aunt, quiet and behaved. It reminded Alfie of school children, neither speaking up unless asked upon. On the other hand, Thomas sat still as a statue, hardly breathing except to take another puff from his cigarette and obviously not paying attention. While his eyes were fixed on Polly, he gave no real sign of acknowledgment. Alfie would believe he were a ghost if not for reaching out to his lighter on occasion. 

It was on one of those times that Alfie's attention strayed towards Thomas that he noticed the blue eyes staring back. A wakefulness appeared in gypsy's focus as if he noticed he was caught, but at the same time his brow softened slightly. Stubbing out his cigarette, he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the others in the room.

“That about covers everything, isn't that right Polly? Next month's shipment will take place on the 21st, and you will have double the protection for the larger cargo of rum. John and Arthur will handle it with you in London Mr. Solomons, then collect payment.” 

“Aye, Mate. That sounds agreeable to me.” 

“Good. Are you leaving for London tonight or did you find a room for the evening? We have a pub down the lane that my brothers can show you if you'd like?” Both men stood to shake hands, and Alfie gave a nod of his head in farewell to the others. Fixing his hat once again on his head, he motioned to Ishmael to head towards the exit. 

“Bit late for travel tonight I'm afraid, but I sent my lad Ollie out earlier to rent us some rooms. We'll head out first thing in the morning once the sun's risen. As for the drink, I don't mix that with business either.” 

***

Phantom aches and pains were the damnedest things to come out of the war in Alfie's opinion. Besides the nightmares, hallucinations, and actually being dead a'course. While he had witnessed many a man lose their sanity from the images locked away in their heads, Alfie knew he had to consider himself lucky compared to most other bastards he fought beside. Every soldier who happened to make it out alive from those terrible trenches suffered after the battle was over, but he seldom was inflicted with flashbacks or bad dreams. No, when Alfie was able to fall asleep, he slept like the dead and would awaken fresh the next day. The trouble was that sometimes when the lights went out and he tried his best to sink into oblivion, the damn aches would start up. 

First it would be his leg, an expected area to be hurting what with his injury from the war never fully recovering. But then as he focused on ignoring the pain, soon a creeping sensation of tightness would surround his upper thigh, causing the leg to twitch along with the pumping of his blood. If by that point he didn't get out of bed to walk off the phantoms, he would soon be paralyzed by the tightness in his chest. Lungs would struggle to breath in the clean air he knew surrounded him, the muscles in his throat clogging with nonexistent gasses. Eventually he would pass out from the sheer suffocation, only to wake hours later feeling as if he were truly dead. 

After such a long ride from London to Birmingham earlier that morning, Alfie was already stiff and achy from sitting prone for so long. The meeting with the Shelby's was slightly interesting and overall successful, but his legs were used to long hours working the floors at the bakery, not sitting around useless. With Ollie having secured rooms for them to sleep, Alfie was prepared to lay down upon whatever bed closest and not move until either daybreak or his legs felt normal again. 

That was not going to be an option for that night though, for as he lay there with his breath evening out and his back relaxing into the lumpy mattress, the slight twist of pain on his upper thigh caused him to pause. Waiting for a few moments, hoping beyond hope that it was not the phantom pain again when his body actually hurt so much for real, he knew luck was not going to be in his favor. Soon the tightness wrapping around his thigh began the familiar twitching of muscle, and Alfie sat himself up out of bed. 

Reaching for his cane, coat, and hat, he set off on foot down the streets of Birmingham. Bound and determined to walk off the sensations before they became real. In a town such as this no one would notice another shadow walking about, another conflicted soul chasing away the war. 

At such a late hour, most everything was closed up and shuttered, but Alfie appreciated this sort of darkness. This sort of quiet with only the click of his cane. The cobbled streets were lined with row houses, eventually converting into businesses and workshops the farther he walked. 

The community was tiny in comparison to the sprawling of London, and soon enough he came across a stable yard that appeared to be the furthermost corner of town. While he expected more darkness in this area, a soft glow of a lamp in the stables peeked his interest. Alfie was not a fan of horses in general, large and dumb beasts they were, but with nothing else in this town to occupy his time he found his legs carrying him closer.

The scent of coal and filth seemed to drift away as he stepped into the covered area, his cane kicking up some dirt and hay as he wandered in. Taking a deep breath, he could almost believe he was in the country side with the deep earthy smell, the dust from the straw making his nose itch. As he strolled along, many of the farm animals ignored him, while a horse or two shook their heads at him. The glow lead him to a tall, white, beauty that nickered at him lightly, so he reached a hand out to pat her snout. She pressed back against his palm gently, and Alfie couldn't help but marvel at the softness.

“What are you doing?” came a voice from the shadows behind him. Turning quick, Alfie immediately dropped his hand and peered into the dark. His eyes were not as good as when he was a mere lad, but he could still see the outline of a man sitting against the stable wall. The figure didn't seem overly threatening as he waited for an answer from Alfie, hand reaching up to take a puff from a cigarette. 

“Just admiring the quiet of this here town, and apparently also finding the only other soul awake at this hour. Please excuse my intrusion, I simply just followed the glow from the only lit lamp.”

The stranger extended a hand out to the light Alfie spoke of, slowly positioning it closer to himself to reveal his face. The sharp cheek bones, blue eyes, and wisps of dark hair could only belong to one person.

“Thomas Shelby.” Alfie stated, as Thomas leaned back against the wall.

“The one and only.” he huffed, exhaling smoke through his nose. He sat upon a barrel of feed, more relaxed than when Alfie witnessed him earlier, and gently pushed along with his foot another barrel towards Alfie as invitation to sit. 

“Not one for sleeping Thomas?” Alfie asked as he slowly lowered himself to sit, leg thankfully not cramping up.

“I could ask you the same, Solomons.” 

“Well, I just cant help but tour these magnificent establishments you have here, all wonderfully brooding in the dark and all.” Thomas snorted, stamping the last of his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe. 

“This may very well be the freshest air you breath in Birmingham, so take a deep breath of it.”

“Is that why your sitting here? Breathing in fresh air?”

“Something like that I suppose.”

They were both quiet for a brief minute, watching the shadows extending off the white horse as it turned away from them. The detachment Alfie was beginning to familiarize with Thomas was non existent at the moment, the clarity in his eyes showing through for the first time. Instead of the statue like gangster posed to take on the world, the smaller man appeared softer in this light. Alfie cleared his throat and Thomas lit another cigarette.

“So what really brings you out here Mr. Solomons, besides taking a tour? This is a bit away from your room tonight.”  


Alfie glanced at the other man, his hand unconsciously reaching down and massaging his own knee. Using his cane, he tapped lightly against his shin, pointing out the problem.

“Leg was a bit stiff from sitting all damn morning and evening, figured it was best to walk out the kinks a bit.” Thomas nodded in understanding, his eyes glancing down at the cane as if noticing it for the first time. At least, the first time acknowledging it. “And enough with the 'Solomons' shit, as business partners you can call me 'Alfie'. I'm more likely to respond to that.”

“Alfie.” Thomas says, as if tasting the name. Alfie couldn't deny he liked the way Thomas spoke it. Again another nod of the Gypsy's head, his eyes meeting the Jew's straight on. And then, as if in reply to a question never asked, he spoke again.

“Tommy. Everyone calls me Tommy.” 

Carefully, with his large blues still focused on Alfie, Tommy reached into his overcoat's pocket and withdrew a slender flask. Unhitching the latch, he took a quick nip of the Irish whiskey, then held it out to Alfie. Not wanting to look away from their eye contact, Alfie accepted the offer and took a swig of its contents. Passing it back to it's owner, their fingers gently brushed. 

“Ay, Tommy it is then.” 

There were many questions that Alfie didn't dare ask, but for the moment he kept his everlasting mouth shut, and just enjoyed the company. Peace be a stranger to men such as themselves, but he knew one must occasionally appreciate the quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deeper dive into Alfie's thoughts on his new business deal, and a few more questions he can't quite answer as of yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the positive feed back! It's been a while since I sat down to write, but there was something compelling about this idea, and the nagging in my head just wouldn't quit.

Business dealings could be a tricky plight in some cases, especially of the not so legal variety, and men in positions of power need not to forget their own immortality. The best way to curb any plotting, back stabbing, or preempted murder was to always handle business yourself. Or pull the trigger first, of course. Whichever option suited a man was plenty fine. Alfie's own most useful tactic was to spew whatever kind of nonsensical story possible from his mouth, controlling each conversation with any person who thought they could outwit the infamous Jew. This in turn would convince them that he held an insanity deeper than any good conscious could survive. While his men respected him, they were also terrified of him, never knowing if in that moment if he might lose all control and finally snap. As for his enemies, they either knew enough to stay far away, or they would learn quickly.

The Italians were a meddlesome bunch though. Pouring good rum down drains and making a mess of the good order in which London ran. Their wine was awful, food decent, but their accent and attitude quickly became irritating. It was easy enough for even the most foolish of men to see that the Italians were there to stay and they were not willing to remain out of Alfie's affairs. First a few ransacked pubs, then a couple shipments heisted, and finally a few men dead. He understood their message, sent a few back to them himself, and before you could blink an all out turf war was happening for the sake of London. It was just as Alfie was getting ready to roll up his sleeves and burn the fuckers to the ground, that a little bloodied Gypsy strode into his bakery and made him the most insane of offers. 

His first instinct was to throw the smaller man back out onto the streets. Alfie had no need for someone to come handle his issues, he did most everything personally, and preferred it that way. Not only that, but the principle of it all! Alfie Solomons did not require protection, people needed to be protected from him. 

Self reflection can come in a variety of forms, many times during unexpected moments, and while Tommy Shelby spun his ideas for a partnership, Alfie actually stayed quiet. In agreeing to work with the Peaky Blinders, to allow them to infiltrate the streets of Camden Town, he could use them as pawns to finally eliminate the Italians and suffer fewer losses in the end. He still had the capability to eradicate the pesky rats himself, but for how long would that last? How much damage was he willing to take on for a matter of pride? 

As it played out, most of the decision was made because of the common sense of the offer, and details were easily worked out. After all was said and done through, with Tommy on his way back towards Birmingham, Alfie couldn't help but sit back in his chair and contemplate the other small piece that made him sway. The eensy reason that tipped the scale in the Gypsy's favor. 

A man could lose all track of time staring into blue eyes such as those.

 

***

 

The next few shipments of rum were handled with care and no signs of trouble. Surprisingly, the Blinders were remarkably professional in their dealings with Alfie, brutal in their strength against any persons trying to hinder his associates, and it allowed Alfie to spread out his territory in London. The increased revenue was successful for both gangs, and Alfie quickly began gaining back the man power that had previously been depleted in the Italian attacks. 

With all the back and forth travel the Blinders were forced to take between London and Birmingham though, Alfie made a point of traveling north to their office for their monthly business meetings. It was only polite. And of course it meant he could keep an eye on their establishments as well. That was only fair.

On the second trip to Small Heath he traveled lighter, leaving Ishmael to remain at the bakery to keep the operation running smoothly, but still forced Ollie to drive. Fresh air was good for the lad. Keep him healthy and all. Sprite. If only the idiot would drive less like a maniac, then Alfie could have possibly relaxed a bit more to enjoy the scenery. 

They arrived somewhat earlier in the afternoon on this occasion, with Ollie having more confidence on the drive and getting them there quicker. Rooms had been reserved beforehand at the same hostel, so Alfie allowed Ollie the chance to be witness at the meeting. The same dreary row houses greeted them on arrival, but this time some sun shone through the clouds to liven the place up a bit. Crowds of people streamed about the streets carrying on with their own business, with a few here and there entering and exiting the Shelby house. Most likely partaking in the race betting, Alfie assumed, having heard the Shelby's were also tangled up in bookmaking. None of his concern. 

Entering the establishment with Ollie at his heels, Alfie glanced around at the bustling activity of men placing their bets, biting at the bit to lose their hard earned money. Fools the lot of them. Turning to the left he found the door to the private office open in invitation and made his way inside. 

Once again Tommy was seated at the desk, a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth, and his eyes cast upwards. Polly stood over him, speaking in low tones, and her arms crossed. It looked as if she were reprimanding a child, grimacing at him in obvious displeasure at whatever their conversation consisted of. They both turned to look at the Jews as they entered, Polly's face going blank at the interruption, and Tommy blinking at them as he schooled his features. Arthur once again sat in the corner with a glass of whiskey in his hand, grunting in acknowledgment of their entry. Not quite drunk, but most likely a little sluggish. 

“Afternoon Shelby's, mighty fine day at that with the sun shining through, innit? I bet even pale Arthur here could get a bit browned if he sat outside a few hours!” With that Alfie tapped Arthur's shoe with his cane as he sat down in the arm chair, receiving only a grunt in return. 

“Good Afternoon Mr. Solomons, I see you made good time on this trip.” Polly seated herself in the empty chair beside him, crossing her legs and turning towards him.

“Know the road now.” Arthur remarked off to the side.

Pleasantries were always somewhat boring for Alfie, his mind always having been easy to wander as a child, and not being intrigued enough to focus for long. He immediately appreciated this family though, with their ability to get to the point and move business along. It was all simple anyways; his shipments and territory were succeeding, the Blinders did their jobs, and everyone was getting paid. While this coming month's shipment was not to be as large as last, the travel was slightly extended and needed an extra days time. Arthur was going to be working elsewhere for a few weeks, so Alfie would be seeing more of John in Camden Town. All of it was mostly trivial matters that were not overly concerning, but still needed to be discussed. Each party had contracts needing to be signed by the other with their agreements, and Alfie quickly skimmed it all while peering through his reading lenses. Everything was right in the world. 

Polly read through the documents herself, then placed them in front of Tommy, pointing out for him to sign. 

It was going on supper time as Alfie shook hands with Tommy and Polly, their discussion over for the time being. A clock chirped somewhere within the office, reminding them all of the time. Glancing at Ollie, Alfie could see the lad looking peckish, and knew it was time for work to be over for the night. 

“Mr. Solomons, why don't you and your boy here go on down to the Garrison with Arthur. I know you don't partake in mixing liquor and business, but you at least could have a cuppa tea and something to eat. A treat from the Peaky Blinders while you're here in Birmingham.” Polly placed a hand on his forearm, gesturing to Ollie and Arthur as she spoke. Arthur perked up at the mention of the pub, already standing to grab his coat and hat. Ollie looked back at his boss silently, apprehensive in his nervous way, but hopeful at the mention of food. Alfie found himself nodding along to the woman in agreement. Turning back towards the desk while brushing her hand off his coat, Alfie looked to Tommy.

“Will you be coming along as well?”

Wide eyed for a moment, Tommy quickly shook his head no, and started shuffling papers around the desk. Arthur paused in putting his arm through the sleeve of his coat. Polly grimaced again.

“Unfortunately, Tommy and I still have some work ahead of us tonight.” She replied for her nephew, turning her gaze towards him.

“Yes, not going to be an early night I'm afraid. But my brother will show you both a good time at the pub. Whatever you'd like, it'll be on the house.” Tommy nods along with his words, looking Alfie in the eye only once he finished saying them. 

Being the end of the conversation, Arthur lead them out and down the street towards the Garrison. Alfie couldn't deny that some supper sounded heavenly after all their traveling and deal making. Arthur was finally chatty, a skip in his step as he led them onward, and told them all about his favorite bar. Ollie followed close to Alfie's side, but his attention was focused entirely on what the eldest bother had to say, interested in this strange place so different from London. Alfie just rolled his eyes.

And if he happened to have glanced back behind himself before they turned a corner, eyes roaming over the stoop and doorway they had just left behind, he did not acknowledge it to either of his current companions. Just like Alfie kept quiet and did not mention to the Shelby brother ahead of him what he saw. It could have been anyone, but Alfie was not known to be a fool. Exiting the Shelby office quickly, just before the buildings blocked his view, a slim man in a flat cap headed off in the opposite direction. Shoulders slouched, and coat pulled close, the figure headed towards the stables. 

 

***

 

“Com'on in here boys,” Arthur motioned to a private seating area, rolling the door back to reveal an empty booth. “This here's the best seat in the house.” He himself clambered into the booth, shucking his hat and coat off in the process, making a mess of his combed back hair and movement pulling at his shirt. While effective, not very whimsical. Alfie knew it would not take long for Arthur to become a stumbling drunkard that night, something he wasn't sure he would be entertained by. 

After Alfie and Ollie had gotten comfortable themselves, a barman opened a window against the wall and asked what they were having. Arthur got them set with two glasses, a bottle of the best Irish whiskey, and a cuppa tea. Some stew was delivered with it, thankfully something kosher, and both of the other men dug in with gusto as Alfie watched amused. He himself took his time with each bite, preferring to taste the food, and even savor a bit of it when he concluded it wasn't awful. 

Arthur told stories of beatings he had given and some he had received right there in that very pub, laughing along with Ollie at his own antics. He made himself out to be quite the daredevil at times, recalling his brother John backing him up when needed, and backing off at times too. The bar man came back over on occasion to check on the men, nodding along to Arthur's claims and confirming the truth behind them. The bottle was replaced with another before Alfie even finished his stew, with the gypsy having drunk the most of it. While Ollie drank and held his own well enough, Arthur had to have drunk twice as much. 

It was an hour or two of sitting along and telling tales to one another that Arthur stood up and made his way out towards the bar. “Be just a moment boys, I gotta take a quick leak.” he claimed as he excused himself towards the back of the room.

The bar man took the opportunity to come over and clean up some of the spilled liquor on the table, wiping his rag efficiently and picking up the empty bottles. Alfie tipped his head towards the man in thanks, slipping him a couple coins for his effort.

“Is he always this excitable?” Alfie asked, smirking and nodding his head in the direction Arthur walked off in. “Probably going to drink you out of business tonight it seems mate.”

The barman smiled in fondness, relaxing against the door way as he crossed his arms. “Nah, old Arthur can get a bit wild depending on the night, but he also keeps the place stocked. I doubt we'd run out of his favorites any time soon. John holds his alcohol better though, so he runs through it even quicker!” He laughs to himself, slapping the rag up onto his shoulder.

“Well, what about Thomas? It can't be only two of the Shelby brothers causing mischief here?” 

“Oh not Tommy,” he shook his head woefully, “After the war, he clammed right up. It changed most of the men around here you know, but he wasn't one to try and drink away his pain. Was here quite often early on with his brothers, but after what happened with Grace he hasn't stepped foot in here since .”

“Who was Grace?” Alfie asked, prodding gently at the barman as he was lost in his reminiscence.

“Grace? A lovely barmaid I hired here a few years ago. I was hesitant to hire someone as young as she, but that girl was a force to be reckoned with for sure. I honestly hadn't even noticed he'd taken a fancy to her. Truthfully it didn't seem like he was interested in anyone once he came back from war. But in she walked one afternoon to announce and inform me she's going to be married to him. That she was pregnant and done working here. Few months later she gives birth to a healthy boy, but didn't survive the labor. Dunno if it's her memory or the guilt that keeps him away, but Tommy doesn't come around here no more.” He paused here, eyes cloudy with remembrance, “She could sing though, I tell you, sing like we were all going to heaven after all this blasted sin.”

It was then that Arthur came walking back up, sliding back into his seat, and continuing on with whatever story he hadn't finished up before. The barman shook himself out of his thoughts, nodding to the men as he walked off towards the other patrons. Ollie took another swig of his drink and leaned towards Arthur to listen to less depressing discussion. Alfie patted him on the shoulder, declared he was heading off to his own room for the night but for Ollie to stay and enjoy himself, then stood up with help from the cane. 

He had a fuckin' horse to go pet.

 

***

 

Just as expected, the glow shown from the glass lamp, leaking out into the street just enough for Alfie to follow as he came closer to the stable entrance. He knew his way this time, just as Ollie had known the road to Birmingham earlier, and he stepped lightly into the paddocked area to not disturb the sleeping creatures. The same white horse stood out clearly in the light, and pressed its shoulder against Alfie as he reached out a hand. Stroking the fur along the beast's large neck, he could feel the strength the animal possessed. Without turning to look at the man he knew was seated against the wall, Alfie spoke first:

“So what keeps Tommy Shelby awake on a perfectly good night like this, mate? You got my answer last time about the bum leg.” His hand strokes towards the broad chest of the horse, feeling her rumble almost a purr against his palm. He didn't know horses could do that. 

When no reply came to his question, he swung around to face his business partner. Those blues were watching him again, wide and almost curious in the flickering light. He's wasn't smoking this time, although the evidence of a pile of ashes sat beside him from earlier. Wisps of hair fell neglected onto his forehead, curling just before reaching his brows. A tiredness was blanketed over Tommy, similar to their first introduction but without the forced composure and blood. There didn't appear to be much fight left in the Gypsy that night. 

“Just like everyone else I guess, close my eyes and I relive a war.” The words are honest, but also vague.

Stepping closer, Alfie gets an odd feeling of Deja Vu as Tommy casts his gaze upward, mimicking the pose he witnessed earlier in the office between aunt and nephew. Not knowing why, the familiar sight caused Alfie to feel almost sick and he swallowed thickly. The barrels were arranged once again as seating, so he heavily dropped down on the one closest to Tommy and tried to clear his head. 

“Aye, we all suffered from the war, but we each had our own battles. The real question is, see, who really came home victorious for both? Maybe it's those dead that got the better end of the stick? They only had to deal with France, not all this mess we living have to swim through. As a Captain in those damn trenches, they actually gave me the responsibility of trying to keep those poor sots alive. Ha! Nobody had a fuckin' choice mate, didn't matter your bloody rank.” Alfie twists out of his overcoat, resting it beside him in the dirt and adding his hat among the pile. Looking over at Tommy, he can see that wakefulness creeping back in, eyes looking a little less lost.

“In the trenches, you say? Were you in those that got gassed?” A cigarette slipped into Tommy's hand, weaving the stick between his fingers a moment, before raising it up to his lips. Pulling the lighter out of his pocket was a slower task than normal, but he managed to get it done.

“Oh fuck, that shit could strangle the strongest of men. It felt as if invisible hands made of smoke would stroke your cheek, then reach down to your throat and suffocate you until you bled out your eyes.” His large hands came up and motioned around his own neck, with Tommy's gaze following each movement. “Disgusting, those bodies that were unlucky enough to not get out soon enough. That shit causes plenty of nightmares Tommy, waking up and thinking your dead because you can't breathe.”

Alfie leaned back against the wall, his shoulder brushing up beside his companion. He could feel Tommy pause in breath, stiffening up slightly at being touched, before sighing softly and relaxing his stance. 

“This damn leg here is what saved me from a similar fuckin' fate. I choked on that smoke plenty of times from the misfortune of being down wind. That was the only way to experience it and still survive, you see. But then I got nicked with a bullet just below the knee, and would have lost the whole fuckin' leg if it weren't for someone's quick thinkin'. A little rope tied tight to make a tourniquet on the thigh, and I was carried off to some medic. Wasn't long after that my station in the mud was directly hit. All of em' a lost cause. Bloody brilliant.”

Tommy nodded in understanding, glancing at Alfie from the corner of his eye, pressing a little closer in sympathy. He took a moment to think out his words, and Alfie let him take his time.

“Tunneling. The 179. Still hear the shovels most nights. Was blown up down there, crushed by tons of heavy earth. Only three of us succeeded in digging ourselves out. The rest were just gone. Already in their graves. Rather convenient in the scheme of things really.” Shrugging, he took another hit from the cigarette, smoothing the tip of it on his bottom lip unconsciously. 

“Well, I guess I stand corrected. That there is for sure the shit nightmares are made of. Although, I bet the worst of it comes when you're awake, doesn't it? Opening your eyes might not always make it stop, and sometimes it begins before they even close.” This time Tommy fully turns his head to look at Alfie, his eyes showing surprise at Alfie's guess, and confirming it all at once. He swallows slowly, eyes roaming Alfie's face entirely, looking for any hint or sign of ridicule. But all he can find is a man with whom has complete understanding, and no judgments. 

“That why you come out here Tommy? Getting your fill of fresh air instead of feeling caved in?”

“No,” a shake of his head, resting it down slowly on Alfie's shoulder. “I come here because of it smelling of earth. Plus the horses always remain steady in their comfort. They are more trustworthy than most people, I find.” 

“You need to find better people then, mate.” 

“Probably.” They both shared a rare smile, one that neither of them was able to witness, as they had both closed their eyes. Alfie spoke for a while longer, his stories surrounding his stay in the hospital after getting shot, and all the hell he raised for the nurses putting up with his ass. Tommy's cigarette extinguished itself in the cool air, resting in his palm upon his knee. For just a night, neither of these two wayward souls had to suffer nightmares. Not the kind while sleeping, nor the terrors when awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and criticism always appreciated


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments.

Eyes blink open slowly. The lantern glow had been replaced by the early morning rays of the sun. A calloused hand reached up and scratched at his beard, recollection settling in. Off to the side stood a grey haired barn-hand, glancing at Alfie curiously, but continuing on with his morning chores. Horses to feed, and all. The barrel beside Alfie that once sat the leader of the Peaky Blinders was empty.

Alfie shrugged on his coat, placed his hat upon his head, and trekked his way out. 

**

Life goes on, as it tends to do. Several months of partnership with the Peaky Blinders found Alfie with a little more steady control over London. Only one of his shipments had been derailed in that time by the fucking Italian miscreant Darby Sabini, with full on bloodshed and a fucking mess to clean up afterwards, but the message to not fuck with Alfie Solomons was beginning to sink in. His network was steadily growing, the Peaky Blinders were beginning to create the reputation they wanted known in London, and the money was flowing in for both gangs. To think, Alfie almost laughed in their faces for even considering a partnership. Now, he couldn't think of a reason not to have agreed. 

And if once a month the heads of both gangs met up in a shitty barn late in the night in Birmingham, chasing away the demons whenever together, what of it? No one's business, that is. Nor was it anyone's business but Alfie's own if he were to wake in the night at home in Camden Town, struggling to breath with no one around, and the thought of blue eyes calmed him down. No one's fucking business. 

Speaking of business, it wasn't until a few months had passed (seven to be exact, but let's not worry such trivial things), that Alfie began to comprehend more of the dynamics in the Shelby family. At least, he began to see a side of their interactions that unsettled him. Remember, a man's words meant one thing, his actions another. 

One such occasion that struck the Jew as odd happened at his own bakery; in his own office even. While it had become customary for either Arthur or John to be on hand in London for the shipments, this was a rare visit with all three of the eldest Shelby brothers present. This meeting wasn't unwarranted or anything, it was necessary to negotiate the terms of an unexpectedly large order for the month coming. Business was in such high demand that Alfie was considering opening a second brewery, maybe even a legit establishment, fully legal. Possibly start importing to the American's. But in the mean time, he had an order that was too good to pass up the revenue, with the demand for protection being the biggest question.

A telegram probably could have sufficed for a response, he reckoned, having sent one to Birmingham a few days prior. But there sat the Shelby's as if they magically appear when called. Might as well be fucking genies instead of gypsies. Tommy himself was perched in the same chair he had been seated in with a nose bleed all those months before. This time he was less bruised, his legs crossed with his flat cap placed in his lap, and a cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“You're going 'ta need double the man power on this escapade,” John spit out from his corner of the room, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don't see what the fuckin' problem is.”

“The fuckin' problem is that many men grouped together will gather the attention of any fucking moron with common sense in his head!” Alfie shouted at John, his temper flaring slightly. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself this particular idiot was not all that important in the decision making. “This trip needs be lower profile, enough men to handle the cargo, probably double the usual group, then lessen the patrol around the bakery for the night.”

“And what do you expect is fair in this arrangement for us, say? You cannot expect the normal payment to suffice Solomons.” Arthur spoke softer than John, but his words were laced with bite. When not drunk, Arthur seemed to have a strong aversion to Alfie. The feeling was somewhat mutual. 

“Correct mate, the added men adds an additional half to your share for the trip. That's plenty fuckin' generous I'd say, being fair an all.” 

Tommy uncrossed his legs, moving for the first time throughout the argument. Looking detached and somewhat bored throughout the proceedings, it seemed he had paid little attention to the conversation, until his next words proved otherwise;

“So, fifteen men altogether, five on patrol and ten protecting the bread. An additional five more than usual, with an extra half in payment. And what of the distance Mr. Solomons? This is quite a bit farther than usual, more chances for someone to strike.” 

“Well, that's easy enough. You get the extra half for the reinforced protection, and then double the usual payment for the extra travel.” Alfie leaned back in his chair, scratching at his beard with ring clad fingers. They would accept, he knew, with no reason not to on such a fair deal. His eyes remained on Tommy as the slender man flicked some ash from his cigarette. 

The room remained quiet, the options being digested by the Shelby's. Then Arthur leaned over and placed a hand gently on Tommy's shoulder. If Alfie hadn't been paying such close attention to Tommy's face, those bloody fucking eyes that only occasionally met his, he would have missed the look of panic. Just a fraction of a second, eyes slightly widening too quick with an anxiety not normally behind them, and then immediately closing off. That fucking detached look was back.

Tommy stood swiftly, the hand on his shoulder being brushed off with no care, and then leaned over the desk to shake Alfie's hand. Alfie took hold of the offering with both of his own hands, engulfing Tommy's cold fingers in his warmth. 

“That sound's reasonable enough, you can expect both John and Arthur here on the 24th of next month. 15 men altogether. It will work.”

“Aye, mate, everything will be set by then. Payment will be made to you once the shipment has been properly received and everyone's made it back to town. Different direction than normal, so I don't expect many hiccups.” Alfie reluctantly released Tommy's hand, allowing the gypsy to turn back towards the door and place his cap on his head. Alfie stood from his desk as well, knowing Ollie could easily see the men out, but deciding to walk them out himself. 

Once they emerged from the darkened tunnel like halls of his bakery, out into the sunlight of Camden Town's busy streets, each of the men shielded their eyes from the bright light. Bidding his business partners farewell, Alfie raised a hand to them as they walked off towards their vehicle. John immediately went for the drivers seat, pulling his hat low over his brow and placing a new toothpick between his lips. He fidgeted as he waited impatiently for his brothers to get in. 

Tommy took his time, first lighting a new cigarette, then glancing up at the sky above them. He didn't get a move on until Arthur elbowed him gently, nudging his distracted younger brother towards the backseat. Startled, Tommy quickly drew away from his older brother and climbed up in the rear of the car. Alfie watched Arthur shake his head in annoyance, then sat himself in the passenger seat beside John. The buggy quickly disappeared down the overcrowded street as it made its way homeward, the brothers each safely inside. 

Alfie just watched. 

**

Another month, another trip northward for more talks on business and contracts. The lengthy travel was by far the worst aspect of this arrangement, especially with the pain it caused Alfie's bum leg on a normal day. But with the months turning colder it was downright awful. Traveling alone to spare his men the pleasure of his anger and contempt, Alfie maneuvered his vehicle along the familiar roads once again to Birmingham. 

The business meeting itself carried on the same as usual, even with Alfie's soured mood from the weather. He found himself short tempered, having no patience for even the mundane, and it irritated himself just feeling this way. Another bothersome experience was that once again Polly led the lecture, with John and Arthur hanging on each word as if it was gospel. Alfie wanted to ask who was really in charge, but kept his mouth shut. None of his fucking business. 

Instead he just watched Tommy blow smoke.

Later, after Alfie finds the room Ollie called in ahead for him, he sat himself on the bed a moment just to breathe. The cold always made him tired, made bones ache just a little more than normal, but he knew sleep would not come. Not in Birmingham. Not when he knew there was probably a gypsy sitting on a barrel of feed waiting to see if this wandering Jew would visit him once again. Sitting there, just breathing in the stale air of the rented room, Alfie could admit to himself that he had no idea what he was doing. He sighed at the thought, knowing it didn't matter. He was going to the stable regardless. 

**

He found Tommy once again in the yellow light of the lantern, but instead of being camped out already on a barrel, he was busily whispering to the white mare in her stall. Long pale fingers draped a woolen blanket over the beast's shoulders, smoothing the ridges down her back to ensure she was properly covered. He spoke in a hushed tone as he pet her, words of endearment meant only for this large beauty's ears alone.

“There we go, much better innit girl? Bit too cold even for you tonight it seems. Uncle Charlie should've known you'd need an extra coat. That's it, be a good darlin' for me. Let's get your back end covered too.” Tommy's movements were relaxed as they always were each night Alfie visited him here, and while he moved purposely around the horse without spooking her, he could also note that Tommy looked at the mare with a respect not commonly found in his eyes. 

“People gonna talk and say you've gone mad, ya know, if they hear you been talking to a horse like that.” Alfie could not help but smile as Tommy turned towards him, not in the least bit startled by the interruption, and he soaked up the sound of a soft chuckle from him. 

“People already think the worst of me, I don't think I need worry much Alfie.”

“Yes I've heard the whispers of the terrible Thomas Shelby, shooting men dead in the street just for looking at him wrong. Must give a sane man plenty to worry about at night. That'd be an awful shame for the dear souls of Small Heath to discover their boogeyman is actually a nut who talks to farm animals.”

“I'm only considered a boogeyman to a few.”

“That's all you take from my ramblin'!” Alfie shouted and raised his hands above his head in mock disgust as he took his seat. Tommy smirked at him and shrugged his shoulders, closing the distance between them as he headed towards his own seat.

“Well, you do ramble often enough.”

“I'll take that as a compliment, mate.”

The bickering between them is comfortable, something Alfie isn't really accustomed to with most people. He'd take a guess at the same for Tommy, the smile on his face being shy, but not uncertain. In the months they'd come to know each other outside of the office, he found his guard to be up less with Tommy, a quality not usually spared in their line of work. Trust is fleeting in business with men such as themselves, yet those nights spent together in a dusty paddock had felt more personal than they both normally allowed. Alfie could swallow his pride and admit he was beginning to rely on these chats.

A night such as that held more than just a chill in the air, the arctic cold draping over all of England to mark the start of winter, and both men felt the frigidness in their bones. Knees brushed one another as they sat close, with Alfie relaying a story of Ollie running through the bakery after a stray cat, and without knowing it he found Tommy's cool hands in his own. Never missing a beat, one moment empty handed, then the next he found himself unconsciously massaging Tommy's icy knuckles to get the blood flowing again. Alfie didn't stutter in his narration, and Tommy didn't react as if he'd even noticed. Like gravity pulling them close, or two magnets coming together. Instinct is funny like that.

“So there poor Ollie stands, covered head to toe in fuckin' grey ash, and dripping rum from knocking into too many barrels! The whole damned bakery is upside down with hysterics at this point, some of them bastards ready to beat ole Ollie over the head with a mallet, and the rest have no idea what just happen'.” Alfie can't help but smirk at the memory, the sight having been absolutely ridiculous. Tommy's shy smile is adorning his lips once again, and he can't help but want it to always be there. 

“Now, I just stepped out of the office to find out what the hell all the racket was, and low and behold there's the culprit right at my feet! A fuckin' kitten! Couldn't of been more than a few months old, still tiny and all, and looking less pathetic than the chaos of my bakery at that moment. I gave Ollie a few words to clean the damn mess up and made sure the men got themselves back to work before a murder could take place. Then I just scooped the little thing up and walked back in the office.”

“So what did you do with the kitten?”

“Well, I couldn't just throw the thing back out to the streets. She was brave enough to enter my den and beat Ollie at a game of cat and mouse, so I figured that was enough of an interview. Cleaned her up, fed her a bit, and now she's taken up residence at the bakery. She steers clear of Ollie, the men leave her alone, and I no longer have any sort of rat or mouse problem for the foreseeable future. Fuckin' cat earned it, I'd say.” Alfie is graced with a full smile this time, Tommy actually laughing at this fearsome gangster adopting a stray cat, and he couldn't help but chuckle along with him. For a moment the two just breathed in the earthy air together and ignored the clouds of fog from the condensation created with each exhale.

The fucking cold was starting to get to Alfie, the air chilling his cheeks even through his beard. Tommy's normally pale face was reddened as well, a sight that Alfie just couldn't look away from even if someone put a gun to his head. Life is a matter of moments, usually filled with forgotten memories or haunting regrets. But every now and then a second in time just stops and makes life worthwhile. Alfie figured this was one of those moments he'd store away.

“Did you know a man could get lost in your eyes Tommy?” The words escape without pause, without thought, and Alfie actually held his tongue after whispering them. It wasn't unusual for him to say whatever was on his mind, but maybe someday he'd learn a lesson.

Tommy looked away from him with his brow crinkling slightly, then pulled his hands back into his own lap. Alfie could see awareness creeping in. Looking towards the dirt floor, the gypsy seemed to be thinking quickly, as if broken from a trance. Alfie witnessed a decision being made behind those blues, and felt his stomach drop as Tommy stood up and took a few steps away from him. Alfie felt his breath leave him as he looked up at Tommy's slender frame, knowing immediately he had gotten too comfortable, too close. This was the exact reason why he never allowed himself to drop his walls around people. Vulnerability was a weakness that could ruin him. Could get him killed. Could slice through his gut worse than any bullet he missed in the war. 

What the fuck was he going to do now?

Eyes still trained on Tommy, he watched the other man turn towards the mare and pet her snout. Those pale fingers he held just moments before were now carding though the beasts fur, scratching lightly, and stroking gently. Tommy had a precision with almost everything he did, even being lost in thought. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a chained watch, and nodded to himself at the time. 

Turning back to face Alfie, Tommy took a breath and spoke.

“It's too fucking cold to be sitting in a stable this late Alfie. Com'on, let's go get a cuppa tea.” And with that he reached forward, took Alfie's hand once again, and heaved him up to stand with surprising strength. If it wasn't for Tommy's balance and the cane beside him, Alfie may have actually fallen on his arse in confusion. Instead he was met with a smile, and being hauled off towards the streets of Birmingham. 

Alfie's relief allowed him to breath again. Tommy was going to be the death of him for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feed back everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little warmth goes a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, this time of year I always get a little caught up in some nightmares, and exhaustion tends to take over.

All that could be heard in the frigid night air were the soft clicks from the heels of their shoes and the light taps of Alfie's cane. Since the stables were on the outskirts of town, away from the bustling nightlife of whores and drunks and deeper in the maze of streets, there was no one awake enough to witness the two gang leaders. Making their way down cobbled lanes, Alfie followed Tommy and matched his carefree pace. His chest bloomed a warmth that beat out the chill in the air, caused by his relief at Tommy having not shot him dead for his admission earlier. Or even just strolling away without a glance back, leaving him to wallow alone in the dark.

He desperately wanted to reach out and touch Tommy. They remained close as they walked, not quite enough to brush shoulders, but enough that Alfie could imagine he felt the heat radiating off of the man beside him. While it would take no effort to press against his shoulder, or even to grasp at his hand hidden in his coat pocket, it was best not to push too much. Tommy hadn't run for the hills yet, but he probably shouldn't give him a reason to either.

They remained in the area of workshops and business fronts, only taking a few corners before coming to a stop at a specific storefront. Alfie had no idea where they were, all the signs being darkened from the lack of light, but he was sure this was not the home of the Shelby family. Having wandered the town plenty by that point, he was familiar with both the normal office the Blinders conducted their bookmaking in and the location of the row houses most of the public called home. This was certainly neither of those. Tommy seemed sure of himself though, pulling a key from his pocket and quickly unlocking the door, so Alfie followed his lead.

Warmth spread around them as Tommy closed and latched the door once they both stepped inside. While it was too dark to really inspect the surroundings, Alfie still tried to peer around. Some moon light peeking through shaded windows revealed what looked to be a few bookshelves against a far wall. Possibly a desk off to the side. The heat from whatever wood stove or fire place was in use felt marvelous after the cold temperature outdoors. But what most piqued Alfie's interest was the distinctively light scent of Tommy in this room. Whatever this place was, it definitely belonged to Tommy. 

Cool fingers brushed against Alfie's knuckles, curling into his palm and pulling him further into the darkness. Steps were easy to take with Tommy leading him on, and soon he found himself pulled past another threshold into the shop's backroom. It was in here that the wood stove was revealed, the embers glowing lazily, and providing enough light to make out the room a bit. 

Expecting to see a dusty back office or storage area for the shop out front, Alfie was surprised by his surroundings. This was not just some little old workshop cluttered with useless junk like he had assumed. Instead, as Tommy reluctantly dropped his hand in favor of striking a match to light a lamp, Alfie's wide eyes were met with a small living space. A kitchenette of sorts took up one corner of the bitty room, with a table and four chairs opposite. Tommy strode towards the stove there, adding a log to heat the place up more, and sat a kettle atop it. Not raising his eyes to Alfie, Tommy moved efficiently around the limited space preparing their tea.

Casting his gaze around, Alfie sat himself at the table and decided not to remark on his companion's obvious nervousness. Instead, he allowed him to continue stalling whatever words were to come, and took the time to appreciate both the slender body moving around and the details in the room. He removed his jacket, resting the heavy coat on the back of his chair and tossed his brimmed hat off to the side.

With everything more easy to view from the flicking glow of the lamp, there was a thin staircase revealed against a wall. Practically a ladder, the steps most likely led up to storage rooms. Underneath them was a doorway leading to an obvious loo, cramped looking in the shadows. Lastly, a closed off door on the far wall, probably a bedroom. Hard to tell. As strange as this setting was, Alfie couldn't help but feel his muscles relax with the scent of Tommy encompassing him. There was no doubt in his mind; this was what Tommy called home. 

There was not much for décor here either, besides some random stacks of books and unusual tools sitting about. A steel safe was nudged against a dusty wall and bookshelf, small and sturdy looking, yet appearing not in use with it's door slightly ajar. This place was definitely lived in, cared for and careless as most homes tended to be, except it was easy to remember they were in the back of a shop in the business district of town. Not in any of those lovely (bleak, morose, ugly, etc.) row houses, filled with families. 

Off to the side though, pushed out of the way of all the clutter, rested an end table. It hosted a dusty floral vase, it's flower arrangement obviously forgotten for months with the darkened petals dried and drooped. A framed photograph sat along side them, the picture revealing a beautiful young woman in a dark coat, youthful and smiling delightfully. The glee in her wide eyes was sinful and taunting, most likely in a moment of teasing or mischief. 

It was hard to look away, the photo grabbing Alfie's attention and stirring a pang in his chest. Could this have been the wife that Tommy lost? The cause of this man's torment? The barman had said she was quite lovely, but gave no real details of the woman. Was this Grace?

The chair beside him scraped against the floor as Tommy sat himself down with two cups of tea, succeeding in pulling Alfie's gaze back. Tommy wasn't looking at him though, his eyes having followed over to the photograph as well. Strangely enough, instead of any sadness or emptiness appearing on his face like Alfie expected, a prideful smile graced his lips. The gypsy shyly glanced at Alfie before fiddling with his teacup.

“That's Ada,” he supplied, “my younger sister. Back just before the war.”

And with those words, Alfie would never admit the shameful relief he felt. And the feeling of stupidity once those words registered and he realized the familial resemblance. Of course, in hindsight it was much easier to see the devilish grin was similar to the sly smirks he was graced with from Tommy time to time. They could fucking be twins. Alfie couldn't help but sip his tea and smile back towards his affection. 

“Ah, so a Shelby I haven't met. She looks to be much less inept compared to those brothers of yours.”

“While it certainly doesn't take much for that, she is quite brilliant. Got us both in and out of trouble as children.”

Alfie chuckled at that, “I'm sure you had a hand in it as well.” And with those words the mood soured just slightly. 

Tommy glanced away, his eyes downcast and withdrawn, thoughts obviously elsewhere. Grief can be a wondrous monster at times, especially to men such as themselves. While men in their line of work and lifestyle were plenty accustomed to a fair share of demons, he couldn't help but swallow down the temptation to strangle Tommy's pain. Thomas Shelby needed not the protection, nor was Alfie Solomons ever destined to be a hero. 

On the other hand, leaving well enough alone was never one of Alfie's strengths.

“Has she passed?” The words escaped his lips before Alfie even had time to recognize he spoke them. It seemed to do the trick though, managing to bring Tommy's attention back to the Jew beside him. Eyes fluttering a few times, Tommy refocused on his companion and gave an apologetic smile. Alfie just sipped his tea, waiting.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I made sure of it.” the words were forced, but he took a large gulp of his tea, and seemed to be more focused as he grimaced at the unexpected burn from the liquid down his throat. 

“That's an odd way to phrase it, Love.”

Tommy chuckled almost bitterly, but finally relaxed back into his chair, stretching out just enough to press his knee against Alfie's own.

“Been about three years now. We were close, always had been more so compared to the others. Probably due to how close we are in age, but our mum would most likely have argued it was our shared wit. Ada was never one to bend to the will of others. She knew better than anyone how to survive in this world, not letting the scum of Birmingham darken her spirit.”

“What happened then Tommy? You talk of her as if she's long since dead, mate.” 

“She,” he paused, letting out the breath of air he'd been holding tightly to in his chest. “She became vulnerable. Fell in love without our family's consent, and grew pregnant soon after.”

Alfie let the explanation sink in, already making assumptions. “I imagine you were roaring mad, a protective older brother helpless to discover his baby sister defiled by the likes of these dirty bastards walking along your streets.”

Tommy's lips twitched in amusement at the description, unable to deny that it had been his immediate reaction when first finding out Ada had kept such a secret from him. In the end though, he just shrugged.

“I'd be a hypocrite to judge her right to love whomever she pleased.” He glanced sideways at Alfie, looking shyly through his eyelashes. “In any case, once the shock wore off I could only give her my blessing. The man she fell in love with was a childhood friend, my best mate, and he'd taken a bullet meant for me in France. And more importantly, he shared her love. While we'd had our differences in business, with his communist ideals and my less than legal profits, I could never fault him for loving Ada. It was if Freddie Thorne and Ada Shelby were meant to be together.”

“It was out of the question for them to stay in Birmingham though, essentially a death sentence. The police were after any communist allies, and any magnified attention on Birmingham is always bad business for the Peaky Blinders. Way of life around here was beginning to take a turn for the worst, and while I could see the evidence mounting, I never would have guessed how far it would go.” Tommy sighed, fingers twitching as if in need of a cigarette but only reaching out to sip his tea. “This innit the sort of place you can afford to be vulnerable.”

Alfie was not expecting this sort of confession when he first sat down that night, but as the man to his left let the words flow, he could only appreciate this faith not normally bestowed upon him. Tommy was never very chatty of a person, both during business hours and their late night retreats, but through the months of their shared sleepless nights something had changed. The air between them had shifted. Alfie wanted to know everything about the man beside him, every nook and cranny he could reach, and the anticipation was killing him.

Knowing Tommy as he did now, Alfie was certain there was only one action the man could have taken against his beloved sister.

“You sent 'em away, didn't ya? Either gave 'em the option or forced their hands to make 'em leave this shit hole. Bet you even hid it from those damn family members of yours. Made 'em all think they ran off and eloped so no one'd go lookin too close.” Alfie nodded to himself, not needing any sort of conformation from Tommy to already know it as the truth. “What'd you do, Tommy? If that girl had any of the spirit you claim, than not even hell could come between her and those she loves.”

“It doesn't matter now. It was for the best. No one from here can touch them, and they won't be coming back to change anything. I'd rather my sister hate me, than be dead or worse.”

“What's worse than death Tommy? What were you afraid would happen?” Tommy didn't acknowledge the questions, and Alfie didn't really expect him to. Both men looked towards the photo again and sipped more tea. This time when Tommy's hand twitched for a cigarette, Alfie grasped it with his own and lightly stroked his palm.

“So that Freddie, was he one of those men that dug out of them tunnels with ya? If I recall, you mentioned there were three of ya.” Both men's fingers were slightly calloused from hard work and weapons, with Tommy's just slightly less hardened and much slimmer than Alfie's own. Tommy's eyes were glued to their joined hands, gazing intently as Alfie stroked circles into the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. With how relaxed Tommy had become, it wouldn't have surprised Alfie if he wasn't listening to the Jew pestering him.

But Tommy always listened to Alfie. He could always hear him, regardless of the distraction. Finally someone who could break through all the noise and chaos.

“Oh yes, there were three that crawled from the mud that night. Freddy Thorne, Danny Owen, and myself. Bloody, covered in muck, and clinging to one another as if we couldn't believe we were actually alive. They had to claw us apart to get us on stretchers out of there.” He paused in thought, nodding to himself. “Poor Danny got the worst damage of all, mostly in his head, still thinks he's underground during some flashbacks. I need to do something about that.” The fact that he had no idea what to actually do went unsaid. 

Alfie held Tommy's hand in both his own then, and tugged at the smaller man to come to him. What Alfie feared should have been an awkward fumble of limbs and pride was nothing of the sort. Tommy easily let himself be pulled into Alfie's awaiting arms and embrace, leaving his seat freely without any complaint. With Tommy now in his lap and their faces close to one another, it was easy to rest their foreheads together.

“I'm awfully glad you crawled out of that muck Tommy. And it's the first damn time I've truly been glad I survived those fuckin trenches. Just to be sitting here with you.” Blue eyes stared straight into his own, revealing a mixture of strength and helpless curiosity that was purely Tommy. There was no pretense or worries here, no judgment in this room. Only two men who understood one another more so than anyone else either had met. 

Tucked in close together in this small room, the frigid weather outside their doorstep was easily forgotten. While it took nothing to lean forward and press their lips together, Alfie's nerves were wound tight. The kiss was gentle, a soft pressure as neither of them dared move. But then, miracle of miracles, Tommy smiled against him and took control. Deepening the kiss and opening his mouth to allow a taste.

God, nothing had ever tasted so good to Alfie. All at once, like a forceful wind rushed him fresh air, his nervous (and frankly boyish) hesitation was all but carried away. Tommy's hands came up and sank into his beard, pulling him ever closer, a low moan escaping his throat as Alfie obliged. His own arms had tightened around the slender man in his lap, and he stroked along his sides, feeling the body beneath his hands finally begin to heat up.

Parting from one another seemed to be impossible, but the need for oxygen made them pull just slightly away. Tommy rested his head in the nape of Alfie's neck and breathed him in. Without any liquor in sight, both men felt deliriously drunk from each other's touch, feeling as if they had been starved from it. Holding on tight to one another, breathing together, and letting the calmness of the night keep them company was a miracle neither one ever expected to appreciate.

Then Tommy yawned against Alfie's neck.

“I think I may be able to sleep tonight,” Tommy whispered, his lips tickling at Alfie's exposed skin. “If you're willing to stay here with me that is.”

“Alright Love, I won't be leaving you.” No one could drag him away even if they tried at that point.

Instead of letting Tommy out of his arms, Alfie easily lifted him up and carried him towards the closed door on the far side of the room. Expecting some sort of complaint from being manhandled, he was pleasantly surprised when all Tommy did was hang on tighter. Pushing the door aside he found his earlier assumption of it leading to the bedroom to be correct, with a neatly made cot set up in one corner and a bureau in the other. Kicking the door closed behind them, they curled together in the dark, fitting just snug on the bed.

While the darkness kept Alfie from seeing those blue eyes he was so attached too, he knew the moment they closed and Tommy drifted into sleep. The weight of the body settled and completely relaxed against him was a comfort Alfie didn't realize he had been needing before. And with a deep breath, he closed his eyes as well, letting sleep overtake him without any pain this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the kudos and comments, they absolutely make my day!

**Author's Note:**

> More to come. Find me at willofknight5413.tumblr.com if you like, I'm usually just messing around.


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